'When we do make the announcement,' Lexington said, his voice still lowered, 'we'll say the meeting is for trade talks.'

'Yes,' Howden agreed. 'I suppose that's best.'

'When will you tell the Cabinet?'

'I haven't decided. I thought perhaps the Defence Committee first. I'd like a few reactions.' Howden smiled dourly. 'Not everyone has your grasp of world affairs, Arthur.'

'Well, I suppose I get certain advantages.' Lexington paused, his homely face thoughtful, eyes questioning. 'Even so, the idea will take a lot of getting used to.'

'Yes,' James Howden said. 'I expect it will.'

The two moved apart, the Prime Minister rejoining the viceregal group. His Excellency was offering a quiet word of condolence to a cabinet member whose father had died the week before. Now, moving on, he congratulated smother whose daughter had won academic honours. The old man does it well, Howden thought – the right balance of affability and dignity; not too much of the one or the other.

James Howden found himself wondering just how long the cult of kings and queens and a royal representative would last in Canada. Eventually, of course, the country would cut itself loose from the British monarchy just as, years before, it had shed the yoke of rule by the British Parliament. The idea of royal occasions – quaint protocol, gilt coaches, court lackeys, and gold dinner services – was out of tune with the times, in North America especially. Already a good deal of ceremony associated with the throne seemed mildly funny, like a good-natured charade. When the day came, as it would, when people began to laugh out loud, then decay would have begun in earnest. Or perhaps, before that, some backstairs royal scandal would erupt and the crumbling come swiftly, in Britain as well as Canada.